I would like to tell you that the conversations that we have in our community (and the circle of friends which accompanies it) are always a source of insight for all, or amusing, or at least friendly and caring. And if you believed me, as I said something like that, I'd be very disappointed in you. Of course, I couldn't make any such claim on our behalf, and remain honest.

"Dennis", a young man known by some of us, had died, senselessly and gruesomely. A bacterial infection, acquired in the hospital, found its way into his body through a crack in his skin. As he was recovering from this, and from the harsh effects of the drugs needed on his immune system, a second infection struck, and took his life from him. He never saw his 27th birthday, or even the birth of his first son. His young wife, 7 months pregnant, was left alone, awaiting the birth of her fatherless child, as many mourned the passing of someone who - before encountering two rare strains of bacteria in rapid succession, had been so healthy, and so full of life - and, as often noted, a source of joy to those around him.

One definition of philosophy, an admittedly sarcastic one, is that it is the art of explaining common sense to those who lack it. One would hope that people would see that this sort of event, was an unfortunate one. One would be frequently disappointed. If the attitudes you encounter within, are often unfortunate ones, they are also common ones. As foolish as they are, they've gained acceptance in our society, because they've gone largely unquestioned.

This article, pieced together from conversations that followed the sad event, discusses the issues of death and grief, and how we deal with them, as well as the ethics and ettiquette of the process of discussion, and what constitutes real freedom of speech.

When one first reflects carefully on these subjects, one often finds that one really doesn't know anything about them. If you should find yourself feeling so, you'll hardly be alone in this. But this may be a reflection of progress made on your part, because we are often raised to know less than nothing about them. It can take more than a little thought to unlearn the falsehoods and platitudes that others try to plant into our minds, in order to create an illusion of happiness, so they don't have to deal with someone else's sorrow. But true happiness is only possible in a life lived truthfully, so let us face our fears and sorrows as adults, without rationalisation or self delusion.

Let's have the courage to, if nothing else, admit to ourselves that some things really are terrible - and maybe even to let ourselves cry once in a while. That's not a lot, but it's a start, and progress, or even virtue, are impossible without it.

Aside:

Names have been changed in the account, below, as part of the point of this article is to examine the folly of certain prevalent attitudes, not the folly of individual people. I would find no pleasure in the embarassment that widespread recognition of the latter would bring.

To the end of maintaining the privacy of those involved, speech patterns have been changed. To the end of not having FreeYellow remove our page, expletitives have been deleted (*). The arguments presented, however, were all too real, the meaning left unaltered by the paraphrase.

Please do not ask me who was who, I will not answer.

Tractatus (T) is my better self, who immediately thinks of the things to say, that the rest of us think of later, and never loses his composure. Yes, obviously a fictional character.

I'd like to point out that I am not the brave man in the title, and am quite comfortable admitting my fears. It is a sarcastic reference to Robert, and the posturing that "courage" often is, in casual conversation.

Let's enter the discussion ...

(*) I've replaced each expletitive with a (bleep!), which apparently was the sound network censors used to use, before redubbing came into style. (Henced the old slang term "bleeped").